Unridden: A Studs in Spurs novel

by Cat Johnson

  The girl didn’t waste any time. He liked that in a lay.

  The owner of the artful ass was currently on the bed on her knees, tits swaying as she rocked over Mustang, whose cock was already buried in her throat. She held it with both fists and struggled to take in the whole thing. There was a reason the man was called Mustang, and it had nothing to do with the model of car.

  With a grin at his friend, Slade slammed and locked the door. He dropped his gear bag on the floor and began stripping out of his chaps. It didn’t take long to fling off his vest, shirt, boots, and jeans. Soon, still wearing his hat, he knelt on the bed behind the girl.

  Mustang flipped him a strip of condoms and Slade caught it one handed. He tore into the foil with his teeth and rolled one on, more for disease prevention than fear of pregnancy, though he didn’t want to have to deal with a possible paternity lawsuit now that his career had taken off.

  Hell, if he never saw this woman again, that would be fine with him. They’d enjoy tonight and then he and Mustang would take off tomorrow for the next city in the lineup of competitions. But Slade was sure they’d leave this little cowgirl with some damn good memories after they’d gone.

  One dip of a finger inside her told Slade she was more than ready for him. Anchoring her with a hand on each shapely hip, he plunged inside with one good, hard thrust.

  The adrenaline of the ride never dissipated right away. He was keyed up and usually hard enough to cut diamonds after each and every competition Thankfully, there were always plenty of women waiting in the wings to help him out.

  Slade pounded into the girl, not worrying about technique or much anything else besides his goal, which was to release the tension built up inside him so he could relax and sink deep into the mellow feeling his body succumbed to after the adrenaline rush subsided.

  Focused on the butterfly inked just above the crack of the jiggling ass in front of him, Slade increased his speed until he heard Mustang draw in a hiss of a breath. “Watch the teeth, darlin’. That there is precious cargo in your mouth.”

  Slade couldn’t control his laugh at his friend’s comment. “I’ll be done in a sec, Mustang. Then she’s all yours.”

  There was no reason to prolong it. He wasn’t really into this tonight, except for the release it would provide him. Closing his eyes, Slade’s hands tightened on… Damn, he didn’t even know her name. That fact made no difference.

  With his eyes shut, Slade could forget she was just another random woman he’d never see again. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know her name, or that tomorrow morning he’d wake up alone in the trailer with nothing but Mustang’s snoring to disturb him and be grateful for that because the last thing he wanted was to see this faceless, nameless woman again. Not that there would be fear of seeing her again. Tomorrow they’d be in another town.

  He plunged in one last time, held deep, and came with quick, powerful spurts.

  After one final shudder, Slade pulled out. He dealt with the condom and then flung himself into the chair right next to the largest bed in the crowded trailer. Through heavily lidded eyes, he watched the rest of the show.

  Mustang tore open a condom for himself before saying, “Hop on up here, darlin’, and see if you can handle the ride.”

  “I can handle it. Don’t you worry.” Eyes watery from being nearly gagged by Mustang, the girl looked relieved and slightly wobbly as she climbed on top of Mustang. Then she had to struggle to lower herself onto him and her relief disappeared.

  “I’m not worried, darlin’. You just take it slow. Ooo wee, that feels good.” Hands on her waist pressing her down onto his cock, Mustang leaned back and grinned at the girl as she labored to accommodate him. “A little further. Ah. There you go. How’s that feel?”

  “Good.” Her voice sounded breathy. “Real good.”

  The cowgirl hadn’t lied. She could handle Mustang and from the looks of her, she was enjoying it.

  Slade shook his head and smiled as he listened to it all from his chair. It always amused him that, unlike himself, Mustang was a talker during sex, and he continuously reassured and encouraged the girls with compliments and comments.

  Mustang’s running sex dialogue probably came from years of having to convince females that his enormous dick would indeed fit inside them if they’d just let him give it a try. Slade was no slouch in the size area himself, but even he had to admit that Mustang deserved his nickname. The man was hung like a horse.

  Slade had been there to witness Mustang’s powers of verbal persuasion on more than a few occasions. “Just let me put the tip in, darlin’. That’s all. I swear,” Mustang would coo to the usually doubtful and frightened looking female.

  Of course, Mustang would inevitably end up getting his way, even with the most uncertain women and the tightest places.

  The one virgin they’d encountered hadn’t been immune to Mustang’s silver tongue either. It had taken all night, but the just the tip, darlin’ argument had eventually led to her being a virgin no more, and since she’d been extra frightened of Mustang’s girth, Slade had been the first to ride that filly. Kind of like the warm-up jockey before Mustang hopped on for the big race.

  He couldn’t complain. Mustang was good at sharing. Slade always benefited from his powers of persuasion, but there were times when the things that Mustang said to the women they shared were such bullshit, Slade had to cover his mouth to hide his smile.

  This proved to be one of those times. Slade nearly laughed out loud now when Mustang said, “I’ll remember this night forever, darlin’.”

  Absently, Slade wondered if Mustang had gotten her name before shoving his dick in her mouth the moment he’d gotten her into the trailer. Not that it really mattered.

  Damn. What was up with him tonight? He usually didn’t feel so cold about the women they entertained. They were nearing the end of the season. That was probably it. He and Mustang could both use a rest for a few months, not that Mustang seemed to be feeling the same way. He looked like a kid who’d just robbed the candy store as he bounced the cowgirl on his dick.

  Slade enjoyed a few more minutes of watching her jostling tits and jiggling ass cheeks before Mustang came with a shout and a curse, after which the girl flopped over to lie panting on the bed, looking like she’d gotten more than she bargained for when she offered a cowgirl sandwich to two adrenaline-fueled bull riders.

  After catching Slade’s eye and obviously seeing the weary look on his face, Mustang said, “Don’t you think you’d better go see to your friend, darlin’? I’m worried about her. I’ve see people get mighty sick, die even, from alcohol poisoning.”

  Her eyes opened wide and her face paled. “Oh my God! Do you think she might be…”

  “I’m no doctor. I’m just saying there ain’t no telling what can happen. I know I’d want to check if it was Slade there alone in a car possibly choking to death on his own vomit.”

  At that colorful scenario, she flew off the bed to search the trailer for her clothes.

  Slade realized she wouldn’t find her panties since Mustang had given them to him back in the arena. Nude except for his once white socks and black cowboy hat, Slade rose with some effort and no modesty to retrieve her undies from amid the pile of the clothes he’d dropped near the door.

  Barely making eye contact, she took them back from him with a mumbled, “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” Pulling on his own underwear, Slade watched as she threw her clothes back on. She looked as anxious to get out of there as he was for her to leave now that he was done with her. That realization made him feel strangely sad for both of them.

  When the door finally closed behind her, leaving him and Mustang alone, Slade let out a sigh and collapsed back into the chair.

  Mustang shot him an unhappy look. “What’s up with you tonight?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you acting like you could barely muster the energy to fuck an incredibly hot chick.”

  Slade shrugged.
“I don’t know. It’s just not as fun as it used to be.”

  Mustang frowned and stared at him as if Slade had grown dick antlers. “Fucking isn’t as fun as it used to be?”

  Slade considered that for a second. “Maybe that’s the problem. It’s just fucking.”

  Mustang looked horrified. “So what are you saying, Slade? You want to find a girl, get married, buy a house with a white picket fence, and settle down in a nice, boring, safe job? Do you know how much sex married men get from their wives? Next to none, that’s how much. Ask Jorge. He’ll tell you.”

  A wife, a real job, and a house with a white picket fence? No. Definitely not. A nice farm and a steady girlfriend to go home to between competitions? That didn’t sound so bad. Maybe.

  Slade kept his surmising to himself. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. But it gets old. A different girl each night. Not even knowing their names.”

  “You may not know their names, but I do.” After pulling on his boxers, Mustang sat forward on the bed and braced his forearms on his knees as he ticked off a list of data for Slade. “She said her name was Brandi, spelled with an ‘i’. Just from knowing her for one night I am betting she dots that ‘i’ with a heart when she writes it. She just graduated from the local community college. Her brother is in the Army in Iraq right now. Her mother thinks cowboys are nothing but trouble, which is most likely why she was here tonight with us. Oh, and she doesn’t make a peep when she comes, but she shakes like a leaf stuck in the windshield wiper of a truck speeding down the highway.”

  Damn. Mustang had done his homework. That made Slade feel even shittier since he’d had no inclination to know anything more about the girl besides that she had what he needed for the few minutes he was inside her. Somehow, that seemed wrong.

  “Hmm. I didn’t notice her coming,” Slade commented absently.

  “That’s because I took care of her quick before you got here.”

  “Oh. Good.” He felt a little better knowing that.

  Where the hell was this pall coming from?

  Slade was usually happy to just fuck and relax. This self-analysis and introspection wasn’t like him at all. “I’m glad you got to know her a bit, anyway.”

  “I didn’t ask questions and listen to her answers because of some sudden sexual guilt like you seem to be suffering from.” Mustang dismissed Slade’s comment with a snort and a wave of his hand. “You know damn well I like flirting with the pretty girls. When I noticed her watching us from the stands, I knew all it would take was a little bit of buttering her up to get her into bed. You should be damned grateful I do like the buttering up part since by the end of the competition she was offering herself up to both of us like a cowgirl sandwich on a silver platter, pretty red panties and all.”

  Mustang grinned at his own description, while Slade pressed his lips together and drew in a deep breath through his nose. “I guess I haven’t been pulling my weight in the buttering up department. Sorry.”

  Mustang looked disgusted, further raising Slade’s level of annoyance as he defended himself. “What? Damn it, Mustang. I said I’m sorry. Next woman, I’ll reel in. Okay?”

  “That’s not the problem. The hunt is the fun part for me, well, second to fucking. But you won the competition tonight and got laid, and you didn’t even have to talk to the girl to do it. So why do you seem so damned depressed? You’re starting to make me worry about you.”

  Slade sighed and considered the question carefully. “Hell. I don’t know, Mustang. I guess I’m bored.”

  “Bored? Well, okay then. That at least I can understand. Next time we’ll get us a couple of girls. Two, or three, even. Maybe we should stop at the next sex shop we see and pick up some toys. One of those vibrating ones. Girls like those. We’re running low on lube anyway.”

  “Okay. Sounds good.” Even in his crappy mood, Slade had to smile at Mustang’s newest ideas for their extracurricular activities.

  Visions of the girl they’d had last week and vivid memories of what they’d done to her, the reason they were almost out of lube, flitted through his head. That had been one woman they, or rather Mustang, didn’t have to persuade. She hadn’t even batted an eye at the size of Mustang’s dick, or his suggestions as to where inside her it would fit nicely. It took half a tube of lube, but Slade was a witness that it had indeed fit nicely.

  Mustang grinned and rose from the bed, slapping Slade on the shoulder. “This too shall pass, my friend. You’re looking happier already. I’m heading for a shower.”

  Slade nodded. A shower, a solid night’s sleep, and then the open road and it would all be good. By the next city he’d have shaken this mood and be back in action.

  “Mustang,” he called loud enough for his friend to hear over the sound of the running water.

  “Yeah?”

  “Keep your eye out in the audience for twins. I’ve always wanted to have me some twins.”

  Slade heard Mustang’s loud laugh through the door of the bathroom and grinned. He felt lighter already.

  Chapter Two

  Jenna’s best friend, Astrid, squinted at one of the two dozen or so television screens adorning the neon-covered walls in the sports bar. “Does that horse have horns?”

  “What?” Jenna had a few better questions than that. First and foremost, why the hell had Astrid insisted the two of them come to the male equivalent of Disneyland for girl’s night out? And, just as important, why didn’t Astrid give in and get glasses or contact lenses so she could actually see? Jenna hated to think how the woman was able to drive and read street signs with her obviously horrendous vision.

  With a sigh of resolution, Jenna twisted in her seat to see what Astrid was talking about. “That’s not a horse, silly. It’s a bull.”

  Born and raised a suburbanite, Jenna had never actually met a bull in person, but she’d seen them on that television commercial…the one for cheese featuring the boy and girl talking cows.

  “A bull? That’s crazy. Who would get on top of a bull and try to ride it? Besides, I thought cowboys rode horses.” Astrid shook her head, sending her short black hair swinging around her face. The blue highlights she’d recently added picked up the light of the beer sign behind her. One day Astrid would realize that a woman over thirty shouldn’t have blue hair.

  Jenna paid more attention now that she knew a rodeo was on television. Where there was a rodeo, there must be cowboys, right? At the moment, Jenna needed a good cowboy or two.

  Absently, she chewed on the straw in her vodka and cranberry. “Did I tell you I’m writing a cowboy romance now?”

  Astrid nearly choked on her light beer. “Really? How are you going to do that? The closest you’ve come to a cowboy was the guy in the big hat that bumped into you in Grand Central Station last December. Remember, when we went to see the Christmas tree lighting at Rockefeller Center?”

  Jenna shrugged as she watched the rider on the television get thrown off the bull, cowboy hat and all, and miss getting stepped on by the deadly looking animal by mere inches. “I just started the book, but I figure it can’t be that hard. I mean, really, how complicated can cowboys be? I’ll just have him ride around on a horse a lot.”

  Astrid eyed her suspiciously. “You don’t even own a house pet. What in the world do you know about horses?”

  “At least I know they don’t have horns.”

  Astrid shot Jenna a nasty look.

  Truth be told, Jenna couldn’t even keep her houseplants alive, much less an animal, but that wasn’t the point. “Besides, I’ll research,” Jenna continued.

  “Research cowboys and horses? How?”

  “The Internet. The library. And I watched some equestrian competition on ESPN the other day. Cute outfits, by the way. Very vintage Ralph Lauren with the slim pants, high boots, and velvet coats. I hope that style comes back in fashion. I really liked it the first time around.”

  Astrid frowned. “That all doesn’t sound very western.”

  “I was watching to l
earn about horses. I mean horses are horses. Right? It doesn’t matter whether you ride them while you’re wearing denim or velvet. It’s not the horse part I’m worried about. The problem is that I’m having trouble coming up with a good plot for the storyline. My hero keeps sounding too ‘Aw shucks, ma’am’ for me. If I don’t even like the hero, how can I expect my reader to?”

  Eyes never straying from the action on the television, Astrid slowly traced the tip of one finger through the condensation on her bottle. “You should have your hero be a rodeo cowboy. These guys are sexy. Risking death by riding that big, nasty bull. And mmm mmm, look at those leather chaps. I bet they’d look good with no jeans underneath.”

  Astrid’s bawdy observations aside, Jenna considered the suggestion.

  “Hmm. A rodeo cowboy. You might be on to something. All that risk would add to the tension in the story.” Jenna searched for a pen in her cluttered purse and then grabbed a cocktail napkin from the stack on the bar to take notes. “Ooo! What about this? His name could be Buck Wild. Get it? Because he rides bucking bulls, and that could be the name of the book too. What do you think?”

  Astrid laughed. “I think it sounds like a typical trashy romance novel. So yeah, it’s perfect.”

  Ignoring the “trashy” comment, Jenna wrote the title idea down then glanced back at the television as another man hit the ground hard and still jumped up smiling. These guys were obviously all insane, but Astrid was right, they were also sexy as hell.

  Behind the bar, the bartender’s smirk and the steady sway of his head drew Jenna’s attention away from the television screen. She frowned at him. “Something wrong?”

  “No, ma’am. Not a thing.” His voice oozed out as slow and smooth as molasses. And his “ma’am”… The dialogue from her book was coming to life before her very eyes.

  Eyes wide, Jenna leaned forward at the sound of his deep drawl and what it meant to her and the possible future of this book. She saw Astrid raise an interested brow as she also noted his accent.